


State Fair

by viklikesfic (v_angelique)



Category: British Actor RPF, Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-18
Updated: 2006-12-18
Packaged: 2017-10-05 21:09:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/v_angelique/pseuds/viklikesfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This seems such a trifling thing to offer to someone who's been such a brilliant friend, beta, and Britpicker to me, but it was the first thing that occurred to me when I thought of this pairing, after reading somewhere on IMDB or something that Alan Rickman likes America and amusement parks.  Hope you enjoy, RC!</p>
            </blockquote>





	State Fair

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rainbowcobweb](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=rainbowcobweb).



"There's a fair on," Alan suggests, when Ian asks where he wants to go. They are both on holiday in America, briefly, stranded on the East Coast between shoots and they're old friends. They decide to meet up for an adventure of some sort, though they don't know what yet.

"Oh?" Ian's reply is mild but he agrees. Alan loves this sort of amusement, he knows, and Ian remembers a year ago, when Alan was drunk at a party and admitted that he'd had the occasional run-in with a homosexual, back in the day, the kind of run-in that later makes you a little uncomfortable anytime you end up incidentally on your knees for whatever reason or spy a glory hole in an old toilet stall. Everyone knows that Alan and his wife have an open marriage. Since that party, Ian has been a little more interested.

"It's not far, and the Ferris wheel is supposed to be impressive." _So he's researched_, Ian thinks, and he smiles fondly, twisting the phone cord between his fingers.

"Very well. Tomorrow, then. I'll meet you there at ten."

\----

It is a glorious day, warm for the Northeast in autumn, and Alan hardly needs the charcoal grey jumper he wears. A pair of reflective sunglasses look ridiculous on someone his age, but they are a surprisingly effective disguise. No one cares, anyway; it's early and a weekday and the kids who would normally ask for Snape's autograph are in school. A few of the adults might recognise Ian or himself, but they are polite about it. Alan thanks God for small favours.

They eat funnel cake, which is absolutely egregious at this time of the morning, but the twinkle in Ian's blue eyes is worth it, and he looks impossibly young. They share the dessert and laugh when their faces retain the powdered sugar like magnets; Alan brushes a bit of white out of a wrinkle at the corner of Ian's mouth and he pretends not to notice like the gentleman he is. Alan is enjoying himself immensely; it's all very civilised.

Of course, they have to ride the Ferris wheel, being the biggest east of the Mississippi and all that, and Ian comments while they are in line on the Americans' obsession with dividing everything by that one river—biggest east, biggest west; are there really any bigger Ferris wheels in California? He says that Buckingham is the most impressive palace north of the Thames, and Alan laughs.

The Ferris wheel costs six tickets each, the most expensive of the rides, and Ian has purchased all of the tickets this go-round because he is feeling rather magnanimous. They go around a few times, and it is as impressive as one might expect, and then the man is letting people off and they pause at the very top, none of the other little cars in sight.

"I feel like I'm sixteen," Ian comments as they wait, time dragging out so that it feels like they are up here forever. "Do you think sixteen-year-old Americans often have their first kiss at the top of a Ferris wheel?"

Alan shrugs, catching Ian's meaning and pretending to ignore it though his hands have a slight tremor to them now. "Perhaps the ones from the Midwest," he postulates, and Ian gets a very evil glint in his eye before he drops from the seat facing Alan and onto his knees.

"It's not bad proportions," he says with a glint in his eye, referring to the size of the car but keeping his eyes resolutely forward, on the seam of Alan's trousers that is just beginning to tighten.

"For the love of Christ!" Alan exclaims, giving Ian a _look_ despite his shades as the car jolts slightly, and they move down one level before it stops again. "Get up before someone sees you," he warns, though his annoyance is really a cover for his passion, for his sudden inexplicable need, and they both know it. Ian smiles.

"Kiss me."

"What?" Alan exclaims, his eyes darting around nervously, as if he would be able to spot a telephoto lens from here.

"Kiss me, and I'll get up," Ian explains simply, as if Alan is a child who doesn't understand. He shows no sign of adjusting his position otherwise, and in fact scoots a little closer

Alan looks quite worried as the wheel slowly begins to move again, and then he makes up his mind, leaning forward resolutely for a quick peck on the lips to satisfy the old queen. But the queen has not gotten her wish just yet, and Ian holds him by the back of the head, refusing to let go, their tongues dancing lewdly in a fashion that almost does remind Alan of his teenage years, of the lust and anger combined with surging undercurrents of need. They are still moving, the wheel is not stopping, and Alan knows they will hit the ground soon. He tries to pull away but Ian's urgency is making him dizzy; the older mans' hands on his thighs are making him weak. He leans forward and leads the kiss, and he feels Ian smile against his lips before he finally pulls away.

The carriage has stopped.

"Bit of a dare, and the good lad decided to humour me and play along," Ian explains, unaffected, to the man who is supposed to be helping them exit but instead just stares dazed at the grandfatherly men he's just witnessed making out in his Ferris wheel. He unlocks the little car quickly, and Ian rises gracefully to his feet, stepping out onto the platform and offering Alan his hand as he does.

Alan is just as dazed as the American man, and he rises slowly, taking Ian's hand without thinking about it, climbing out of the car and proceeding down the creaking metal steps until he snaps out of it and turns his best glare on Ian, completely ineffective once again behind mirrored plastic. "You…"

"I what? Had a little fun? Well my dear, I do admit you've caught me," Ian teases, and then luridly lowers his eyes to Alan's crotch, lingering for a long pause before returning to his face. "Don't suppose you'd like a little more?"

Alan stares, swallows, and nods quickly. Ian leads the way to the car park. It's not even noon, and already, a brilliant day.


End file.
